


The Silver Circle

by midnightsnapdragon



Series: Band of Misfits [1]
Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: Crack Fic, Cress sings opera and Kai recites Shakespeare, Friendship, Gen, Modern AU, Neighbours AU, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 11:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightsnapdragon/pseuds/midnightsnapdragon
Summary: Cinder moves into a new neighbourhood only to find that the people next door are ... well ... kind of loony.





	The Silver Circle

**i.**

Neighbours leave each other alone. That was the golden rule. Cinder came to the Silver Circle fully expecting it to be no different from the apartment building where she had lived with Adri, where she exchanged trivial hellos with the people next door and nothing else – where everyone kept to themselves. In fact, she hoped dearly that her strange new neighbourhood would not live up to its strange reputation and allow her to settle in _in peace._

She really should have known better.

Cinder had not been in her new home for twenty minutes – the dust of the moving truck hadn’t settled – before there was an enthusiastic knock at the door. Feeling apprehensive, she tightened her ponytail, squared her shoulders, and stepped out onto the porch.

Standing there like a one-woman welcoming committee was a black girl about Cinder’s age, smiling brightly and bouncing on her toes with excitement, nearly spilling the muffin pile in the basket she carried. Actually, it was more of a muffin pyramid. Cinder blinked.

“Hi!” the girl sang, like she couldn’t wait to shower the newcomer with pastries. “Welcome to the Silver Circle!”

“Uh – hi,” Cinder said cautiously.

“I’m Winter,” said the young lady, holding up the basket as one might a prize-winning cake. “My housewarming gift. Well, the first. There’s lots more coming. We haven’t had a new neighbour in _years._ We’re all really excited to meet you at the party!”

Cinder gave a nervous laugh. “Er … what party?”

“The housewarming party, of course.”

“Oh! No, no, I’m not having one. Sorry.”

Winter winked at her. “We were counting on that, actually. I hope you’ll like it.”

“Like what?” A headache was coming on. “Who’s _we?”_

“All in good time,” Winter said mysteriously, looking like she very much enjoyed her position as the vague messenger. She pressed the muffin basket into Cinder’s hands. “Go on. Enjoy. Let me know if there’s too much lemon or not enough spice.”

Cinder took it numbly. Winter beamed and danced away down the steps – “We’ll give you the specifics later!” – before skipping out of sight.

Cinder stared after her.

Then looked down at the muffins.

**ii.**

It was a beautiful home. Many-roomed, with soaring walls, spacious … too much for one person. All her mother’s furniture had been left exactly as it had been the day she died. That night, Cinder walked about the rooms in her bathrobe, running her fingers over the delicate vases and mahogany tables, the gilt frame of the mirror in the hall, the luxurious curtains around her four-poster bed. Taking her time going down the wide, sweeping staircase. 

It was amazing. It was unbelievable. It was impossible that this all belonged to _her._

Wrapping the belt more tightly around her waist, Cinder walked into the master bedroom. Right away she paused: none of the lights were on, yet she could see right well in the dark. A glance out the window told her why. The half-moon was clearly visible through the glass balcony doors, and it shone in the dark sky like some great white lantern, spilling a silver glow through the room. Everything was blissfully quiet.

For a moment, the house felt more alone and yawning empty than ever.

Cinder shook off the melancholy. Briskly she flung open the balcony doors and stepped out into the crisp night air. Stars were sprinkled overhead from horizon to horizon, and faintly, across the darkened hills and fields and orchards, she could see the lights of the city.

Bracing her forearms against the cold metal railing, she allowed herself to close her eyes and take a moment to breathe.

Her mother’s will had come through a couple of weeks ago, giving her a new name, an inheritance, and the shock of her life. _Selene Blackburn,_ the rightful owner of the family manor, was free to leave the Linh household as soon as she came of age.

Except Adri hadn’t liked the idea of Cinder leaving her custody to go live in some dead actress’s manor – hadn’t liked it one bit. They’d had a frustrating string of fights and phone calls with a lawyer, thanks to Adri insisting that the manor should not go to Channary Blackburn’s daughter, but to the daughter’s guardian.

Good riddance. Cinder’s blood boiled just to think of it.

“She hangs upon the cheek of night,” someone called across the void, “like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear.”

She started violently and whipped around. In the next grand house over, on the gleaming white balcony that jutted out into the darkness, was a figure – the house’s occupant. It was a young man around her age, and he had his arms raised dramatically towards her, as if serenading a Juliet Capulet’s beauty.

The Silver Circle was a secluded, tight-knit, extravagant neighbourhood. But if rumours were any indication …

“She speaks, yet she says nothing – what of that?” he went on. Even from this distance, Cinder could see him smiling.

… then its inhabitants were a little on the batty side.

She angled her body toward him, opened her mouth – but what was she supposed to say? The first thing that came to her mind was to point out that he’d just quoted from two different soliloquys, but there was really no way to respond to a greeting Shakespeare quotation except by quoting back.

“Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,” she said hesitantly, and instantly winced – she was incapable of delivering a good line.

But the young man’s face lit up anyway. “You’ve read Shakespeare!”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Any fan of the Bard is a friend of mine.” He spread his arms wide, encompassing their balconies, the moon, the whole midnight sky. “Welcome to the Silver Circle.”

In that heartbeat – just a sliver of a second, when he tipped up his head and silver light shone over the planes of his face – he could have been … he almost looked like …

 _Like a prince in one of Peony’s manga books?_ Cinder thought, berating herself.

Still, her lips twitched She had no idea if this was how neighbour-to-neighbour introductions usually went, but at least it wasn’t the painful small talk she was used to. “And those who aren’t?”

“Aren’t what?”

“Fans of the Bard.”

“Oh,” he said, waving a hand, “they’re my friends too. Even Jacin. You’ll see – he likes to think he doesn’t need friends, and he can be a real pain, but we’re all there for him anyway. There’s no one better to have on your team every full moon.”

Cinder drew her brows in confusion. “Every … what do you mean?”

The boy looked about to speak, but then something like delight came over his face. “That’s _right!_ You don’t know yet!” A hint of playfulness crept into his tone. “Well, I won’t say anything about it now, but you should keep your schedule clear that day. And every full moon from now on, if possible. We have a neighbourhood tradition.” And it was hard to tell in the dark, but it seemed to Cinder that he winked.

“Okay,” she said slowly. First Winter, now this guy – how many surprises were they planning on springing on her?

The thread of their conversation seemed to have vanished. The young man put his hands into his pockets. “Well, anyhow, we’re really pleased to have you,” he told her, turning to go back inside. “But you’re probably tired from all the moving …”

“Wait.”

He stopped, and looked back at her. She took a breath. “My name is Cinder. Well, technically I’m Selene, but – I mean, that’s my legal name. I didn’t actually know it until a while ago. So … you can call me Cinder.”

Holding her gaze, he bowed. Every bit the eighteenth-century gentleman. “Huang Kai. A pleasure to meet you, Cinder.” Walking backwards, he tipped an imaginary hat at her. “Good night, good night; parting is such sweet sorrow – “

“– that I shall say good night till it be morrow,” she finished, and could not help a smile.

**iii.**

Dawn came with the rich, majestic rise-and-fall of someone’s voice, the kind of sound you only ever heard on the radio or in movies. _Opera._ Cinder peered groggily from behind a mound of pillows at the window, where the sky had lightened with streaks of pink and gold.

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep again, she gave a muffled groan and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her fuzzy mind strained to make out the lyrics. Why did opera always have to be unintelligible, with its obtuse vowels and elusive consonants, so that trying to make _anything_ out of it would drive you nuts?

Clutching the knit blanket around her shoulders, Cinder got to her feet and shuffled to the balcony, where she had stood only last night and quoted Shakespeare to a stranger. Now, as she stepped out and felt a pleasant breeze caress her cheek, her feet bare on the chilly marble, she looked toward the house on the right, half-expecting Kai to be there again.

He was not. The opera singer was the only one outside at this hour.

She stood on the balcony of the house to the left. At first, sunlight shone into Cinder’s eyes and she couldn’t make out the singer’s petite form, pale and pastel against the bright sunrise; then her vision adjusted and she saw a small young woman standing at the pearly railing, her eyes shut tight to the world, a fantastically long braid of blonde hair was swept over one shoulder. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. 

And it didn’t seem that she was singing for anyone. She sang to the fields and the dew on the grass, for the growing fruit in the orchards far away; she sang to the morning, and she sang for herself. Magic poured through every syllable as she raised her arms to the rising sun and beamed. 

The last note wavered in the air and fell quiet. The spell broke. Cinder blinked, realizing that her jaw was hanging, and snapped it shut – she’d frozen where she stood, eyes wide with awe. It was hard to believe that such a powerful voice could be hiding in this wisp of a human being.

“That was,” she began. Her voice was hoarse with sleep. She cleared her throat and started over: “That was beautiful.”

With a gasp, the singer whirled around. And just like that – with a slump of the shoulders and the music abandoned – she was no longer a harbinger of the dawn. Only a timid young girl.

“Th-thanks,” came her small voice, sounding tinny and far away. Cinder stepped forward a little to hear better, and the girl stepped back, hugging herself. “Y-you must be … I mean, I knew you were coming but I didn’t …”

“I don’t usually get up this early,” Cinder assured her, raising her voice a little to be heard over the gap between their balconies. “Your singing woke me –“

“I’m so sorry!” gasped the girl.

“– just a little – “

But the singer had already turned and fled back inside. Her balcony doors swung shut.

Cinder put her head into her hands and dragged them down her face. She wondered if everything since her arrival had been, and would be, part of some crazy dream. 

**iv.**

“All right!” Iko yelled through the loudspeaker, her feet planted apart in the stance of a battle-herald. _“Are you ready?”_

“READY!” the crowd screamed back at her.

“Then” – Iko sucked in a breath, and bellowed: “GOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The crowd surged and ran into different directions. Thorne dashed to the backyard; Cress scampered to the shady front lawn; Winter was off with a _wheeee!_ to the spacious porch and the supplies they’d stashed in the bushes, the day before.

Yes. The crowd consisted of three people.

But that’s all right, Iko thought, fisting her hands on her hips and squinting at her comrades’ progress around the Blackburn manor. They were a decent crowd. This was her army, and with their help, she was going to throw the best party ever. 

They wielded collapsible tables and bags full of food, streamers and “Welcome!” signs, confetti and weighted helium balloons. Thorne had hoisted a portable sprinkler over his back, having insisted that no party was complete without a rainbow, while Cress pulled her weight with some board games and Twister rugs. Winter – well, Iko had no idea what _she_ had up her sleeve, but the porch seemed to be in the midst of a slow-motion explosion of colour. 

It was a battlefield. They were a blur of motion, shaking out the dance mats and picnic blankets, spreading baked goods across rickety tables with astonishing speed. Some might call it a nut job – but no! This was _art._ And what’s artistic talent if you won’t use it for the benefit of your community? Or, more specifically, the benefit of the girl who’d arrived in the Silver Circle just yesterday? She sounded kind of lonely, judging by the information obtained by Iko’s handy-dandy muffin spy.

She gave a decisive nod.

It was time.

“Wolf,” she said calmly, “the party cannon.”

_Time to bring out the big guns._

**v.**

Jacin peered past his window curtains. It was just as bad as he’d expected. Iko had not spared any efforts: the Blackburn front lawn was submerged in picnic blankets and plates piled with food, in apple-bobbing buckets and three-legged races and piñatas hanging from the trees.

An undignified mess of a party just waiting to happen.

Scoffing to himself, he pulled away from the window. _I suppose that’s the idea._

**vi.**

When the gunshot ricocheted through the air, Cinder’s hand jerked on the coffee mug, spilling it all over the table.

_Gunfire – oh my stars –_

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest as she scrambled out from behind the dining table and dashed to the front doors. She pressed her ear to the glass, but heard no screams, only faint shouting – and it sounded more annoyed than terrified.

She opened the doors a crack, not daring to look outside – 

“– scum, if I warned you once, I’ve warned you a hundred times,” someone was yelling, a woman with a thick French accent. “We don’t buy your useless crap, so don’t come around selling your lies! I can see right through you! And if you come back around again, so help me, I will aim a little better next time!”

Bewildered, Cinder eased open the doors and stepped out onto the porch, thinking that maybe she’d imagined the gunshot.

The first thing she registered was a man in a business suit, running down the Silver Circle’s main road as fast as his legs could carry him. 

The next thing was the redhead standing in the driveway across the street, breathing heavily, her hair curling against slightly pink cheeks. In her arms, the shotgun looked exactly like the weapon it was.

There was a moment of silence as the salesman’s yells faded. And then every eye on the street ( _wait,_ thought Cinder’s befuddled mind, _why are there so many people outside?_ ) slowly turned to her, who remained frozen on her front porch.

 _Just a really aggressive salesman and a_ really _aggressive Frenchwoman, nothing at all to worry abou-_

The party exploded around her.

**vii.**

It was like having trumpet fanfare blasted into her face. One moment was all she got to brace herself, to watch several of her neighbours lunge at her in what seemed like slow motion – and then they were shouting “SURPRISE!” all at once, hugging her and shaking her hand, full of smiles and welcome. And ignoring her protests, they dragged her away from her own porch and into the merriment.

Later, Cinder wouldn’t remember anything specific. There was a game of Twister in which several people bent themselves into painful-looking positions, while she stood comfortably on the side and called out colours. Then she was swept into a conga line that bopped around and around the Blackburn manor and left her light-headed. At some point, a baseball bat was pressed into Cinder’s hand and a blindfold tied around her eyes, and she was told to hit the piñata; in a fit of temporary madness, she clubbed that person around the head for trying to force a party game on her.

And now she had a sweet roll in one hand and a ginger ale in the other, with no idea how they’d gotten there; her head spun with all the sights and sounds so early in the morning (she really wanted that coffee right about _now_ ), and with the effort of remembering everyone’s names:

Carswell Thorne, all dark blond hair and winks and devilish grins, introduced himself as _Captain_ and declared that he was unbeatable in Uno. (“We’ll see about that,” said Cinder.) Ze’ev – or “Wolf”, as the others affectionately called him – was a shy wallflower, very polite, who may have once belonged to a street gang. The bashful opera singer called Cress was, apparently, a hermit (“I’m working on it,” she whispered, eyes trained on the ground) and seemed to be infatuated with Thorne. Scarlet, the Frenchwoman with the rifle, was kind but not _nice,_ which Cinder liked about her; she also told Cinder not to mind the neighbours who were acting like five-year-olds.

Then there was Dr. Erland, who Scarlet said (under her breath) was a mad scientist, and also rumored to be an illegal immigrant; Torin, who lived in Kai’s household, was maybe old enough to be a grandfather, and busy giving out disapproving looks. Emilie was all innocence and bubble gum, while her boyfriend, a hulking boulder of a man called Strom, sneered at everyone and everything. 

And Iko – Iko, the one with blue hair, the mastermind behind it all, who wrapped Cinder in a bear hug and muttered something about a “Jacin” and “shirking his duty”. In their first five minutes of one-sided conversation, Cinder learned that she had a weakness for shoes, a dislike for party poopers (Iko’s words, not hers) and a distinct fondness for handsome men.

“So what about you?” Iko asked when she had stopped for breath. She stepped back and took a pensive sip of soda, watching Cinder over the rim of her cup. “Where’re you from?”

“Nowhere,” Cinder said automatically. 

“Tut, everyone comes from somewhere. Me, I’m from Saskatchewan.”

Cinder pretended that she knew where that was. “You probably haven’t heard of it. Small town.” _Please don’t ask about my family._ Determined to turn the subject away from herself, she looked around the party: quite a few people had come in. Iko, like Scarlet, whispered their names in her ear: Li, neat and courteous … Gilles, who looked like he’d spent the afternoon drowning in a tavern … Huang Rikan, a strikingly handsome man in his late thirties – _wait, Huang sounds familiar, isn’t that the family name of –?_

“KAI!”

Cinder ducked, her hands instinctively going to her ears as Iko’s shout reverberated through her skull.

“Oh, Cinder, so sorry – it’s just – KAI, OVER HERE!” Iko jumped up and down and waved, as if anyone could miss the hair flying indigo to aquamarine. When Kai had come far enough down the street that it was apparently no longer necessary to yell at the top of her lungs, Iko flourished a hand at Cinder with a big smile. “Kai, meet our newest friend, Linh Cinder!”

“We’ve met,” Cinder muttered, wincing as she brought her hands down from her ears. “Just last night, actually.”

Iko gasped, and Cinder cheeks flamed as she realized exactly how that sounded, but Kai only laughed. “Yes, I’ve had the honour of making Juliet’s acquaintance over the distance of our balconies.” He turned to her, his expression open and clear. “I hope you feel well rested?”

Cinder nodded. “Yes, thank you, Rome – Kai.”

“That’s good. I know how stressful moving can be. Especially to such an …” He glanced around the party, his lips twitching into an affectionate smile, “… _unusual_ neighbourhood.”

Ignoring Iko, who had turned to her with wide eyes of livid excitement and mouthed _“Romeo?”_ behind Kai’s back, Cinder tipped her head. “You don’t say.”

Kai grinned. Her skin started to tingle.

Someone chose that moment to throw a water balloon. It burst against the Kai’s cheek and drenched his blue shirt, leaving water droplets in his hair. Iko shrieked and jumped back.

Cinder started, and turned to see “Captain” Carswell Thorne with two more water balloons in his hands. His blue eyes sparkled at them over the rim of the little wagon he’d pulled in front of himself, which was loaded with what looked like a hundred such balloons, full to exploding.

“Didn’t we agree,” said Kai, swiping at the water in his eyes, “that you are to give us fair warning before ambush?”

“Ah,” said Thorne, waggling his eyebrows, “but then it wouldn’t be an ambush. And anyway, what are you going to do, Huang? Throw a book at me?”

Cinder watched the two of them and it dawned on her that they were not, in fact, nemeses. They must be friends – the teasing, competitive kind who liked to fluff their feathers and challenge each other to battles of honour.

Because, instead of throwing a book, Kai smirked – and the look transformed him from a respectable and well-read young boy into a mischievous rogue.

“You,” he said, “are going _down.”_

Before Thorne could blink, Kai had lunged for the wagon of water balloons and overturned it. The little globules flopped and rolled through the grass, careening in all directions, and every single person in the backyard tensed.

They all knew what this meant.

“WAR!” someone yelled.

Shouting erupted. Half the partygoers threw themselves to the ground and covered their heads. The other half snatched up the weapons. And then, water balloons were whipping to and fro without mercy, flying through the air, as many exploding in the grass as finding their targets, and they were accompanied by war cries and things like “I’VE SWUM WITH SHARKS, I’M INDESTRUCTIBLE NOW!” and “ALPHA TEAM, OPERATION BLUE FEVER, GO!” 

Was it every man for himself? Could you count on your predetermined alliances? There was too much confusion to tell for sure.

Scarlet and Fateen were back-to-back, throwing like madwomen; at the centre of the chaos, yet somehow untouched, Winter laughed delightedly and jumped squarely on abandoned water balloons, soaking the grass and her bare feet. Nearby, a sprightly Dr. Erland ducked just in time to avoid a watery projectile, which flew over his head and hit Iko in the chest. Iko roared in fury and hurled her water balloon through the air. There was a pained exclamation from somewhere in the melee. Cress dove into the bushes.

And in the middle of it all was Cinder, crouched low on the grass, looking around and wondering whether it was possible to emerge from this battle unharmed. If she just kept away from the fight and didn’t bother anyone, maybe, just maybe, she could walk away with dry clothes –

A pink water balloon rolled to a stop at her feet.

Cinder swallowed, feeling the target paint itself on her forehead. She gingerly picked up the balloon.

When she looked up, Thorne was just a couple of metres away with a ball in each hand, and his eyes were pinned on her: a clear challenge. Before she could blink, he reared back his arm.

The balloon exploded in his face in a mess of water and pink elastic material. He sputtered, dragging his hands across his eyes, and in his moment of blindness Cinder dashed forward and swiped another from the ground and nailed him again in the stomach, hard enough that Thorne fell backwards with a dramatic groan.

“She got me!” he wailed, waving his arms in mock tragedy. “Captain down! Captain down!”

Several of his teammates stopped in their battles to look at him, lying on the ground … and then their gazes settled on his attacker. Who stiffened like a deer in headlights.

Eyes narrowed. Fingers curled around fresh projectiles.

Cinder didn’t have time to feel smug over her victory before she had to run for her life.

**viii.**

It was a neighbourhood-wide party, having spread to everybody’s lawns. All sorts of music – rock, jazz, the Macarena – blasted from every direction. The water fight hadn’t infected the opposite side of the street, though, so Cinder fled there. She dashed down the grassy alley between two large houses, breathing hard, and pressed herself up against the backyard door. It was as far as she could go.

For a moment she just stood there, bracing her hands on her knees, catching her breath.

_That was ridiculous. That was so childish! That was –_

_The most fun I’ve had in years._

This simple realization gave her pause. Cinder straightened and pushed strands of hair away from her eyes; her ponytail was coming undone.

When was the last time she’d really enjoyed herself? Sure, the party had left her a little taken aback, but really … really, she loved the feeling of not being watched, of being with people who didn’t _care_ if they were being watched. They were the opposite of Adri and her stiff obsession with appearing like a proper lady.

With a huff, Cinder leaned her head back on the backyard door. A rectangular piece of sky was visible between the two roofs under which she was hiding, and she stared up at the blue-and-white patchwork.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall figure emerge into the mouth of the alley, his pale blond hair stark against the red bricks. He might have moved on if he hadn’t glanced down the passage and seen her, braced against the backyard door. Distrust filled the set of his shoulders as he paused, watching her.

Cinder scrambled forward, explaining herself – “Sorry! Sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here. I was just trying to get away from the … you know, the … welcoming party?”

“The one Iko insists on throwing every time someone new comes around,” the man said dryly. His tone suggested ease, even boredom, but from the way he narrowed his eyes at her as she approached, he might have been calculating whether or not she would leap for his throat. “You must be the lucky newcomer.”

“Lucky,” Cinder sighed, and held out her hand. “I’m Cinder. Linh Cinder.”

He consented warily to the handshake. “Jacin Clay.”

“Ah …” She remembered now, what Iko had been growling about earlier. “I think Iko mentioned you. Were you supposed to come?”

Jacin raised an eyebrow, otherwise expressionless. “No.” At Cinder’s confused frown, he amended: “Maybe that’s what she wanted to think. But I never agreed to help or participate.”

“Oh,” she said again. “Well … it was … fun.”

He gave her a pitying look. “Just wait until she wakes you up in the middle of the night to toast the blue moon. Every national holiday? Fireworks. It’s Halloween? Organized zombie crawl. Someone got a promotion? Gift baskets and champagne. And not to mention, every month – “ He stopped, and gazed out at the slowly mellowing party.

“What? What happens?”

“Nothing. You’ll find out eventually.” Then, looking back at Cinder, Jacin seemed to remember something. “Do you normally mow your lawn at five in the morning?”

She blinked. “No.”

“Late-night Shakespeare re-enactments?”

“Uh … no?”

He ticked off the peculiarities on his fingers. “Any penchance for strange animals or garden plants that may or may not crawl through our windows?”

Cinder was beginning to see the point of the interrogation. “What, someone does that?”

"Made any questionable dealings with the mafia lately?”

 _“No,_ I – “

“Do you have any particular obsessions that we should be warned about?”

She bristled. “Look, I’m just your run-of-the-mill neighbour who happens to be a mechanic and doesn’t want to bother anyone, all right? And I’ll thank you not to judge people by their hobbies!”

Jacin considered her for a moment, and then nodded, appearing satisfied that the newest neighbour was not a lunatic.

Cinder blew out an exasperated breath. “Surely not everyone who comes here is – well – strange?”

“I don’t know how it happens,” said Jacin, “but somehow the Silver Circle seems to attract every misfit from here to the Pacific Ocean.” He looked back at the party. All his earlier derision had faded, and now there was something thoughtful in his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe some of the stories they bring – how they got here, who they were before.”

“If that’s so,” Cinder said lightly, “then I suppose I will be a misfit among misfits, because I wasn’t _anyone_ before.”

“How did you come here, anyway?” He didn’t give her a chance to explain. “Shifty circumstances, maybe, like Dr. Erland? Bought the house on auction? Or are you an undercover detective looking for evidence of Channary’s … shall we say, less honourable activities? Let me tell you, it’s a bit pointless now that she’s kicked the bucket.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, let’s go with that explanation.”

They turned to watch the party again. And Cinder smiled at the sight that met her: in a last outburst of festivity, her neighbours had begun some forgotten Celtic line dance, laughing and switching partners every few seconds.

And then, unbidden, her heart gave a pang. They looked so … carefree. 

A foreign word, a foreign feeling. To think that all these years, she had thought that being normal would bring her happiness, that to fit in was to find a key to the secrets of life, and had squashed down any strangeness to where it would never show itself. Only now, as she watched the bright, collective spirit of the Silver Circle, did she realize how wholly unremarkable she was. The thought of it made her sad.

“But other than that,” she said softly, “I’m very much an ordinary person.”

Jacin heard the wistfulness in her voice, but he tactfully kept his eyes trained on the dancing, even as a rueful half-smile turned his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re all mad here.”

**ix.**

All five of them were sitting on the carpeted floor together, awake despite the late hour. Cress had settled onto her stomach, chin propped up on her hands; Scarlet leaned forward over the cat in her lap as she listened to Cinder’s tale. Emptied bowls of fruit and instant noodles lay scattered around them.

“… guess I got used to it,” Cinder was saying, her eyes cast down, picking at the worn but familiar pajamas she was wearing. She hadn’t touched the expensive nightgowns in her late mother’s closet. “Eventually the insults don’t bother you anymore. It was more the … how she was so _unfair,_ that’s what really got to me. Little things. Like the time she had ball gowns personally tailored for Pearl and Peony, but didn’t budget for mine … I should have expected it, but it still made me angry.”

“She sounds horrible,” Cress said in a hushed voice, her blue eyes wide. “I can’t believe she would do that when her husband’s last request was to treat you well!”

Scarlet sighed loudly. 

“Too naïve?”

“Way too naïve.”

“I’m working on it,” Cress mumbled into her sleeping bag.

Winter hummed thoughtfully from where she lay on her back. She arched her neck to peer at Cinder upside-down. “Luna, I’m glad you came to us. I hope you’ll like it here.”

Cinder was once again startled by the direct, honest way that Winter spoke. It gave her pause. _Did_ she like it here? 

Well … yes. Surprisingly. Ever since her welcoming party, Cinder had felt herself thawing – relaxing, slowly, allowing herself to speak freely and be herself. She’d helped Scarlet tend her garden, and found that she liked the redhead’s company; they spent hour upon hour either talking or in comfortable silence. She’d woken up smiling every morning to the sound of Cress’s wonderful song. She’d even allowed Iko to take her shopping, letting the bluenette cram her into changing stall after changing stall, if only to savour the feeling of … of …

Of having friends.

Before Cinder could reply, Cress asked curiously, “Why’d you call her Luna?”

Iko nodded sagely and tapped one finger against her chin. “Cinder seems more like a … like a …”

“Like a ‘glass slipper’?” Scarlet offered, half joking. “’Pumpkin’, maybe?”

“Oh, gee,” Cinder said, rolling her eyes, “Like I’ve never heard that one before.”

“No, no,” Iko said, displeased, and furrowed her brow. “Those aren’t any good … we might have to ask Jacin.” She scowled, as if she would rather eat a slug than ask a favour of their prickliest neighbour.

“I’ll ask him,” Winter said cheerfully. “But I think he’ll agree that Luna is the best name for her.”

“Why?” asked Cinder.

“Oh, I don’t know. You just seem like a girl from the moon to me. A girl with many homes, small towns and palaces both.”

Iko’s eyes lit up. “I know that voice! You have another story, don’t you?”

“Really?” Cress breathed, leaning closer. “Oh, tell us, Winter, please!”

“Very well,” Winter said dramatically, swinging up her arms and gesturing in the air – painting pictures, leading them into an imaginary world. “Tonight, I tell you about the adventures of an invisible girl in a very big city, who thought she was just like any other Earthen. Once upon a time …”

They all leaned a little closer as their kindest, craziest, dreamiest friend began to tell the story like a bedtime fairy-tale, flying them away from the basement in the Silver Circle and into another universe, spinning and spinning and spinning them into sleep.

Cinder closed her eyes, feeling peace settle over her like a warm blanket. 

They were here for her tonight, and would be there for her when she woke up.

**x.**

On the morning of the full moon, she stepped out onto her porch, yawning, and blindly reached for the newspaper. Instead, her hand brushed against something else.

A paintball gun.

The yawn froze in her mouth. Cinder rubbed her eyes and looked again. Yep – it was an honest-to-goodness paintball gun, fully put together and ready to be fired. A few pellet cartridges were stacked neatly alongside it on her welcome mat. And there was a note.

Cinder picked it up and squinted to decipher the scrawled message.

_Here is your weapon. Everybody else has one, too. Good luck._

A slow smile spread over her face.


End file.
